Symbiotic
by bluecellphone
Summary: This is what SHOULD have happened in Episode 3 of Heroes. Mohinder goes to find Sylar in that tiny little shack. Smut ensues. Mylar realizes they are the key to healing each other...through smex. Warning: spoilery if you havent seen the episode!


"Thank you," Dr. Suresh shook the hand of the pilot before his door was opened for him. He stepped down the few feet from the small prop plane that had flown him to the remote destination. His eyes scanned the terrain around him and his mind flickered back to the thought of why the company had offered up a plane to him so undoubtedly. Did they know what he was really using it for? He had told them he needed to travel to a possible virus victim. Had they figured out he was going to look for Sylar?

Mohinder shrugged the thoughts away as the pilot barked that he would wait there for the doctor. A sheepish smile was flashed to the man before he pulled out his handheld GPS and a small, crumpled piece of paper with a feverishly scribbled longitude and latitude. Dust rose from the ground as he spun slowly, pointing himself in the right direction. Coming to a stop in a south-west fashion, he wiped some beading sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his kaki jacket before setting out.

As Mohinder pushed through the overgrowth, snapping twigs and nearly tripping over various tree roots, he pondered what had happened the night before. Molly had awoken, panicked from a nightmare, screaming that the boogeyman was killing some poor woman with a coffee mug. After calming her, Matt asked her if she was seeing a new boogeyman. They had all assumed Sylar was dead. Much to their surprise, Molly noted that she had in fact seen the man that had killed her parents, and attempted to kill her not too long ago. Mohinder had spent the rest of the night discussing with Matt whether or not Sylar should be found. Parkman wanted justice, and it was apparent that the murderer was running rampant again. In front of Matt he had acted that night; pretending he wanted to take Sylar down for all the terrible things he'd done. But he knew the real reason for the journey. The man he loved was in pain. He was lost. He was scared. Mohinder had to find him. The others wouldn't understand…they never had and they never would.

Doctor Suresh paused from his feverish walk to remove the kaki jacket from his body. It was trapping in way too much heat for his liking, so he peeled it away from his damp skin and laid it over his shoulder. Raising the GPS device he realized he was already about halfway there. The pilot had done a good job of getting him near to the spot he had requested. Of course the man could not have landed the plane in the thick of the woods but this was the area he would have preferred to bypass. It was hot, muggy; the air was sticky, and the searing sun was not making the trek any easier. Leaning against a tree Mohinder blotted his face with the jacket. He welcomed the break with a long drink from his water bottle. The soothing drink, however, couldn't stifle the burning lump in his throat. What was he supposed to say to Sylar when they were face to face again? What if for some reason Sylar didn't remember him and Mohinder's life was stolen away like one of the murderer's many victims?

He breathed in hot, stale air and pushed away from the tree. The comforting feeling of a syringe in his pants pocket eased his mind as he ran his fingers over it. Worst case scenario was the doctor having to drug his lover, much like you would do to a wild, exasperated animal. It wouldn't be hard; he had done it before, after all.

Mohinder's mind wandered to Molly. Was she able to sleep now? He worried about her getting sick with the images of Sylar on yet another rampage. A wave of guilt stabbed his organs as he remembered asking her to point on a map to Sylar's location. The irritated, disapproving look he had received from Matt was enough to send his heart plummeting into his stomach. It may have been wrong to ask Molly to do that; he understood completely. But to him the possibility of losing Sylar forever far outweighed the few moments of visual imagery Molly had to suffer. He grinned remembering her meek voice offering comfort to him. _"It's okay Mohinder. I know you __need__ to __find__ him."_

A thick branch was pushed away by Mohinder's smooth hand as he broke into a clearing. He stopped, taking in the view of a small cabin-like shack several yards away from him. Raising the GPS and noting his newly acquired longitude and latitude, he smiled. It was quickly becoming dusk and the sky was turning from a bright blue to a pale orange, bringing about cooling air. He breathed deeply preparing himself for what was inside the structure. With the cold sensation of drying sweat in the evening air, he shivered lightly, and swung his jacket back on. A quick glance at his watch showed him that he had been walking for about twenty minutes. He was grateful that time had moved so quickly in the heat.

Cautiously he stalked one brown boot in front of the other. Not wanting to startle anyone who may be inside he tried to be as quiet as he could, avoiding stray branches in his path. His deep brown eyes darted about the area around him, searching for signs of movement. This place felt eerie, like it was being watched. It felt wrong.

As he neared the door he noticed it was tattered and falling to the ground in pieces. It had practically been ripped from its hinges. He swallowed before peeking his head into the structure, and stepping through the broken door.

"Hello?" He called out, but received no answer. "Sylar?"

The room was cluttered; junk piled against the walls, and a single busted table in the center. A plate of food lay on top nearly plunging from the edge of the silver surface. The food was untouched. Mohinder's line of sight quickly dropped to a woman lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. As if magnetic, the back of his hand shot to his mouth as a sick feeling rushed to his throat.

"My God," he breathed against the warm skin of his hand, averting his gaze. "Not again Sylar."

He stepped over the woman, clad in a bright red shirt matching the sticky substance beneath her, and entered another small room. Still no sign of him. Where could he be? A lightning bolt of worry struck through Mohinder as he realized that Sylar had probably left after his kill. Turning on heel he exited the shack, stopping only a few feet from the door. The cool dusk was nicer than the stale, unpleasant air inside. He sighed before taking out a silver cell phone and speed-dialing Matt.

"Hello? Yes Matt, it's Mohinder. I hate to ask but, I'm here and there is no sign of him."

"Don't ask me to Mohinder," Matt's voice surged into the doctor's ear.

"I'm sorry. I need her to find him again." He ran his fingers through damp curls waiting for a response.

"Look you know I wouldn't ask, but I came all this way! It would be a waste for me to turn around and come home now!" His tone grew feverish with the lack of response from the other end of the line.

"Alright," Matt sighed angrily. "She's asleep, so I need time to wake her up and explain the situation. I'll call you back."

"Thank you." The line clicked and Mohinder's heart jumped. He hoped he hadn't angered his friend too badly. He also hoped Molly wasn't going to be mad at him when he returned home. Her infatuations with the doctor lead him to believe that she would shrug it off upon seeing him again. A smile crept across his face at the thought of her running into his arms, clad in cartoon pajamas.

The sudden fear of the approaching night struck him from his happy thoughts. Rubbing his hands together he turned to go back inside. As dingy and disgusting as it was in there with a dead body, he feared the growing shadows surrounding the clearing much more.

Just as he stepped under the shattered door pieces and through the entrance, a strong hand planted itself onto his chest. He was shoved forcefully to a side wall, moaning as his back met with hard concrete.

"Are you an illusion?" A deep voice growled, before sputtering into a cough. Mohinder, breathing deeply, felt the hand release slightly from his chest as the man in front of him wavered.

"What? No!" he stammered. "Sylar?" The sputtering breaths from his attacker were cut off at the sweet sound of his own name. He remembered that accent, so innocent and kind.

"Mohinder?" Sylar whined in a needy tone. "You're real," he panted, shocked.

"Of course I am." The doctor reached out to steady the injured man, afraid he might fall to the floor.

"Sit down," he said, leading Sylar to an overturned chair in the corner of the room. The dizzied man gripped tightly onto Mohinder's jacket as the doctor flipped the chair right-side up and eased his companion slowly into it.

"What're you doing here?" Sylar's raspy voice seemed stunned at the sudden appearance of his lover. Mohinder took a moment to take in the disheveled appearance of the murderer. He was sweating profusely, though the night was cooling to a frigid temperature. His eyes were dark and tired; the skin underneath shadowy from drugged nights. It was apparent that he hadn't shaved in a few days as stubble had invaded the skin around his mouth and neck.

"I came to find you." Mohinder placed a cool hand onto Sylar's forehead, gauging his body temperature. "Where were you a few minutes ago? I thought I was alone in here." Sylar shifted in his seat, shaking Mohinder's hand from his head. He brought his own hand to his wound and curled forward slightly as pain pulsed through the gash.

"I was in the corner." He flicked his head toward some loftily-stacked boxes a few feet away from the body. Mohinder realized he must have been too concentrated on avoiding the dead woman to notice him lurking in the shadows.

"I wasn't sure if you were an illusion or not, so I didn't say anything," Sylar hissed through gritted teeth. It was apparent how much pain he was in. Mohinder, concerned, removed Sylar's hand from the wound and peeled back the loosely hanging bandage. He shrugged this strange talk of illusions off as a mere side-effect from being so ill. He wondered how long the wounded man had been seeing things.

"You need help Sylar. Let me take you home."

"Home?" Anger spread across the man's dark features, twisting pain into irritation. "New York, you mean? I'm fairly certain I'm not welcome there anymore," he huffed, furrowing his brow.

"Well, I don't intend on having a welcome-home party for you with everyone you tried to kill, Sylar. But you need medical attention." Mohinder folded his arms across his chest, confused by Sylar's frustration. He would have thought Sylar would be happy to get out of that hell hole.

"I'm fine. I'm healing."

Mohinder shook his head in disagreement and knelt beside the man.

"It doesn't look like it to me. If you stay here, that wound could become infected." He could feel the heat coming from Sylar's dark eyes; seemingly searing into his own. Mohinder's heart ached over the way this ordeal had changed his lover. He hated seeing him so distraught, so torn, and so beaten. He wanted to save him; to fix him.

"Let me help you Sylar," the doctor pleaded, leaning in closer. A blank, unwavering stare was all he received in return. In the moment, he did the only thing he could think of to persuade his counterpart. Mohinder leaned in, kissing Sylar softly. The world around them seemed to freeze and a buzzing, ringing noise invaded their heads. At first the stubbly man did nothing to reciprocate his advances, but after a moment of lingering soft lips, Sylar moved his hand to the doctor's head. He tangled his long fingers in the brown curls, pushing their mouths harder together. Mohinder sighed internally. A hint of the man he remembered still lingered.

He placed a dark hand lightly onto Sylar's chest as their lips pulled apart, resting forehead against forehead. For a moment they breathed each other in.

"Come home with me," Mohinder breathed onto the other man's lips. Sylar gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his companion's curls as he let out a small, frustrated growl. It was a losing battle between him and the relentless doctor. He nodded his head once in compliance and Mohinder stood up, pleased.

"Good," he grinned.

Both men jumped as a crazed ringing noise came from within Mohinder's pants pocket. He fumbled quickly in the pocket, embarrassed that the phone had startled Sylar into a heavy wince of pain. Along with the silver phone, the syringe was tugged loose from its cloth home, and clunked to the floor. Ignoring it, Mohinder spun around and answered,

"Hello? Oh yes, hi. No, no, I'm so sorry, send her back to bed. Yes…I've found him. Alright. Bye." With a click of the closing phone he turned to see Sylar standing, examining the needle, free hand placed instinctively over his wound.

"You were going to drug me, Mohinder?" Sylar grinned, head tilted downwards, glaring at the man in front of him from beneath a low brow.

"Well, it was merely precautionary," he smiled, shaking his head as the taller man advanced towards him. When they were face to face, only an inch apart, Sylar buzzed,

"If you want to play that game, all you have to do is ask." A heavy breath escaped the doctor's lips as Sylar curled his fingers around Mohinder's belt buckle.

"Not now, Sylar!" He wanted to pull away from the murderer, but past experience caused him to freeze, knowing it was no use.

"Not here!"

"I've missed you so much, Dr. Suresh," Sylar teased, brushing a warm tongue against Mohinder's dark lips. He instinctively wrapped an arm around the doctor's waist, steadying him.

"Sylar, you're in no condition to – Oh God!" Mohinder's head rolled back as warm lips enveloped the skin just beneath his jaw and his hips were pulled into the other man's.

"You make me feel stronger," Sylar breathed onto caramel skin before licking and biting an ear lobe. "And I make you feel weaker," he pressed harder into Mohinder's hips. Kissing his neck gently, he smiled as the doctor grasped feverishly behind his head, trying to get a firm hold on the collar of his shirt.

"It's Symbiotic, Mohinder. Evolution at it's finest." A whimper escaped Suresh's mouth with the sensation of a warm tongue on his throat.

"Let me feed off of you," Sylar growled before suctioning his mouth to the other man's. He could already feel himself growing sturdier. The pain in his chest was fading slowly as pleasure overwhelmed his body. It was as though he were an empath; feeding off of the satisfaction he gave Mohinder in a vicious, mind-numbing cycle. The harder he pushed, the higher his lover became, and the more powerful he felt.

His skillful fingers loosened Mohinder's belt and undid his pants, sending them slinking to the floor. Next, plaid boxers were effortlessly tugged downwards, dropping after descending past bony hips.

In synchronization, Mohinder stepped backwards at Sylar's push. Coming to a rest against the wall, the excited doctor thrashed his head backwards at the feel of a cold, lean hand wrapping around his erection. A whimper escaped his lips and he thrusted his hands under Sylar's shirt, scraping against the wound. Sylar breathed in sharply causing Mohinder to jump and stammer,

"I…I'm sorry!"

"Don't be." A grin spread before hungry teeth bit sharply onto the doctor's ear, causing a rush of air to invade is lungs. The pain had been reciprocated.

As Sylar's hand caressed smoothly back and forth, a violent shudder spread through Mohinder causing him to double over and bury his scrunched face in the nape of Sylar's neck. A sturdy thigh slid between Mohinder's knees to stabilize him as he grasped once again at Sylar's collar.

"Oh!" Mohinder moaned with the quickening pace of a hungry hand. Muffling a scream that was begging to be released, he bit down on Sylar's shoulder erupting a growl from the taller man. He wanted to hear Mohinder scream his name. He loved the delicious sound of that accent rolling his name across a cultured tongue. It rang through his mind, pulsed through is veins, and fed a sexual hunger that burned deep inside him.

Pulling away from Mohinder he unfastened his own restricting pants. Sparkling eyes watched his Indian lover intensely as he wrapped his fingers around chocolate hips. The doctor was spun around and planted firmly, chest to the wall. Still clad in a jacket and shirt, goose bumps formed as Sylar's wandering hands crept under his shirt and up his back.

Mohinder released a small whimper as Sylar's arm wrapped around his hip and continued to stroke him. He never wanted the murderer to break away. Digging fingernails into the cement wall, he winced harshly as the murderer forced himself in.

"Sylar," he whispered, feeling the other man go deeper inside while warming his ear and neck with hot, panting breaths. The whisper didn't satisfy Sylar. He wanted his named to be moaned; screamed in want.

He plunged harder forcing the doctor roughly against the wall. Mohinder turned his head, cheek grazing the rough cement as their bodies jerked into each other. Sylar, clasping his free hand atop his lovers, began to feel alive with Mohinder's building orgasm.

"Oh, Sy-" the doctor breathed. The man behind him clenched his jaw, baring his teeth as the steady motion in and out brought him nearer to his climax. He felt the smaller man shudder underneath him, sweat dripping down his temple. Mohinder felt as though his body was on fire with pleasure.

"SYLAR!" he yelled, tensing, releasing himself. After a few remaining thrusts from the man inside him, they both stood limp, panting and shaking against each other. Sylar pulled away, leaving Mohinder to collapse to the floor. The doctor curled, lying on his side, eyes closed tight as the memory of an orgasm rang through him. The murderer leaned back against the wall; head resting in a spot left warm from Mohinder's sweating form.

"I needed that," he grinned, feeling healed and much stronger than he had before. The Indian man on the floor sighed, rolling over, and opened his eyes to a sickening view. He realized he was mere inches away from the dead woman lying stagnant on the floor. The sight of blood and gaping, lifeless eyes immediately washed away the remaining pleasure lingering in his body. He was unable to hold back the vomit rising rapidly in his throat.

At the sound of his lover throwing up, Sylar turned from the wall and grinned.

"She wasn't watching, Mohinder." The doctor gasped for air, wiping his mouth, and attempted to stand. He presented Sylar with a look of distaste at such a comment.

"You don't look so well," the taller man jested, wrapping an arm around Mohinder's waist. He led the paling geneticist outside into the refreshing night air and reached into his coat pocket for the GPS.

"Did I fix you?" the geneticist asked innocently. Sylar beamed.

"Yes. Yes you did. Let me take you home." He held Mohinder close to him, allowing his full weight to be supported by newly-powerful limbs. It was only a matter of time before his powers trickled back into his system.

As they set off into the darkness of the surrounding woods, Mohinder was not afraid. The heavy shroud of shadows around them didn't phase his mind. Sylar was with him again. The whole way back, Sylar smiled with joy at the thought of all the different places he would be able to take Mohinder to once his abilities were working again. Japan was first on his list.


End file.
